What Gift Can I Give?
by jibber59
Summary: What's Christmas without some hurt, some angst, some love, and a little bit of a miracle?


"Really – do we have to go through this explanation every year? I don't like Christmas. And no, I was not traumatized by Santa, or elves, or reindeer, or killer snowmen when I was a kid. I just don't like the whole deal."

"Yes Eliot, we know. It'd too commercialized, it's too phony, it's too sentimental. And Lord knows, the last thing anyone would ever call Eliot Spencer is sentimental. No room for emotions in that tiny little Grinchy heart." Parker stuck her tongue out at him, for good measure. Eliot growled, then sighed and turned away.

"Whatever."

"Eliot, we are just trying to get a bit into the holiday spirit here. Why must you fight us?"

"Ain't fighting anything Sophie. You deck whatever halls you want. I'm just not playin'. Here, I'll make it easy on you." He grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

"Yeah – good riddance Scrooge!" Hardison called after him. "What is his problem? I mean it's not like we're asking him to wear the damn Santa suit again this year."

"Guys – you really don't need to be quite so hard on him. He's right – it's not like he's trying to stop anyone. He's just not getting involved. Shouldn't that be his call?" Nate replied.

"No. Christmas is not an 'opt out' deal. You have to play. I mean, it would make sense for the rest of us to be cranky about it. Let's face it, Hardison and I both had some pretty scrimpy Christmases, and you have some memories that make the holiday a little sucky. From what Sophie has told me she tended to move around a lot as a kid too, so Christmas was kind of hit and miss. But Eliot? Nice mid-west home, middle income family. Mom, dad and siblings around the tree. Pretty much the perfect childhood Christmas. So what's the deal?"

Hardison paused in mid decorating. "Maybe that is the problem. He feels guilty about good memories while ours aren't so hot."

"I don't think he has always had perfect Norman Rockwell Christmases." Nate corrected. "Don't forget his time in the service and – well let's call them other employment circumstances. I would imagine there were a few less than idealistic Christmases there. Maybe that's what he wants to forget."

"Maybe he misses what he had." Sophie got in on the analysis. "I mean, like Parker said, ours weren't great, but he probably had some pretty good years there, and now that he doesn't go home any more that must be kind of tough."

"Nope – I think he's just being a mean old Humbug." Parker was insistent. "Eliot doesn't like fun. His idea of a good time is beating up on guys. Can't do that at Christmas, so he gets cranky." Nodding her head in agreement with herself, she turned up the music to put an end to the discussion. The others shrugged, allowing there may be something to that theory and pulled out more tinsel.

They didn't realize Eliot had stayed outside the door, listening to their theories. He hadn't planned to eavesdrop, but when he realized he'd grabbed the wrong jacket he'd turned back and heard the discussion. Parker had no idea how wrong she was, nor would he ever want her to know. The problem was too much emotion at this time of year. The others had nailed it, each in their own way. Christmas reminded him of things he wanted to forget, but he never forgot anything. At least, not these memories. They wouldn't disappear, and spiked egg nog wasn't going to change that. Memories of the friends, platoon brothers, who never got another Christmas. The families loved one come home because of a shot he'd fired, a contract he'd taken, a job he'd done. The family he couldn't go back to, because they were afraid, or repulsed, by what he'd become.

No amount of Christmas cheer could turn that around. No visits from Christmas ghosts (although there were plenty of them in his head) would change things. No angels descending to show how things would be different if he'd never been born (well for starters, a lot of people would still be alive). No sad little trees, red nosed deer or talking snowmen were going to change anything about his life. Nothing could.

And enjoying himself with his new – well, his new family – somehow made those memories even worse. When they shared gifts, shared themselves with him, it made everything that much harder to accept. In large part because – and this is where Parker was right – he was the Grinch. What was the line – his heart was too small.

So, he found other things to keep him busy at Christmas. To try to keep himself from dwelling too much on the holiday and what it meant. Nothing he did was going to change anything, but at least doing something kept him from realizing what was missing in his life. But they didn't need to know that. Didn't need to know that there was something missing – because he knew them well enough to know they'd try to fix it, and he just didn't deserve that. Sighing quietly he turned and walked away, leaving Hardison's jacket draped over the door handle.

A couple of hours later the quartet had moved the holiday cheer down to McRory's pub. The tree had been trimmed and lit, and now they were getting into the same condition. Between sips of holiday cheer they were sharing stories of past holidays, embellishing with each additional beverage.

"See – this is what Eliot misses out on. This is what makes Christmas special." Parker hiccupped slightly.

"I don't think getting blitzed – or Blitzened – is what makes Christmas special Parker." Nate corrected, slurring ever so slightly.

"Well, not for you maybe, but the rest of us…" She giggled and Hardison just rolled his eyes.

"Not the drinking part Nate – the sharing part. Eliot doesn't understand Christmas." Hardison added.

Parker scowled. "How can someone not understand Christmas? I mean, I don't like people. I don't get people. But Christmas? Everybody gets Christmas – 'cept him." Nate nodded as Sophie picked up the conversation.

"He doesn't understand any of this. I'm not sure Eliot really knows how to share. I think he's been the lone wolf for so long he doesn't get the – what's the word for a bunch of wolves? – the pack idea anymore."

"'Eliot Spencer does not play well with others'. How often do you think that showed up on his report card?" Nate queried. No one answered, but they all nodded. Again. They were starting to look like bobble head dolls to him.

"Who cares – he don't need us then we sure hell don't need him." Hardison was pretty sure he'd put all the words into the sentence – at least enough the meaning was clear.

None of them had noticed the police officer enter the bar and talk to the owner, who had directed him toward there table. As he stepped up to it, the conversation slowed.

"Good afternoon officer – I know we weren't driving too fast." Nate grinned at the others.

"No sir. Would you be Nathan Ford?"

"I would – I am. How may I be of assistance to you..." Looking up, Nate immediately sobered. Something was wrong. He'd seen that look in the past, and it never meant good news.

"Do you know this man?" He turned his phone toward Nate, who quickly went pale. The photo was Eliot on an ambulance gurney. He was as white as the sheet beneath him, his face obscured by an oxygen mask. It was slightly out of focus. Whether that was because they were moving when the photo was snapped, or because Nate had had one too many, he wasn't sure.

"Yes, that's Eliot. What happened?"

"I'm sorry sir – your friend was stabbed." The table had gone silent, as had most of the bar. The regulars all knew Eliot, and there were soft gasps around the room. "He was trying to stop a mugging. He got one of the thugs, but didn't realize there was a second guy. He was leaning over the victim, trying to help her when he was stabbed several times."

"How…is he…will he…?" Nate couldn't seem to form a cohesive thought.

"Paramedics said it's bad. He had no ID on him, but there the woman he was helping said she was sure someone here would be able to give us information."

Sophie was confused. "Wait, the victim knows Eliot? Who was it?"

"The Sister that runs the soup kitchen about 8 blocks from here."

"Someone was mugging a Nun?!" Hardison found his voice. "Are you kidding me?"

"She had the funds from the charity drive and was taking them to the bank. Someone must have known."

"How come she knows Eliot?" Parker wondered.

"You'll have to ask her that one." The cop looked at the group and realized they were in no condition to get to the hospital on their own. "I can take a couple of you to the hospital if the others want to grab a taxi. I'll need to get some information from you about your friend."

"It's all right officer." The waitress stepped up. "We'll get them there. Nate and Sophie– you go with him and I'll bring the others right behind."

Almost five hours later they were still in the waiting room. A nurse had checked on Eliot's condition for them a couple of times already, always returning with the news he was still in surgery. Hardison had been able to create a safe identity and feed the information to Nate over the earbuds to satisfy the police. They'd answered the questions, filled out hospital forms and waited. They were not well suited for waiting. Hardison fidgeted, Parker paced and wandered, although never far. Sophie had browsed every magazine in the room, several more than once. She couldn't have told anyone what was in a single one of them. Nate did all of the above, and more. When he was still, he stared deeply into nothingness, looking down the hallways as if he could somehow draw Eliot into his line of sight and get the answer he needed.

He'd been so focused that it was only when Sophie stood up that he noticed the woman standing beside him.

"Hello Sister – I'm guessing you're here about Eliot?" Sophie reached out her hand to greet the Nun. "We have no news yet, but you are welcome to join us."

"Thank you – you must be Sophie. And you're Nate. I am Sister Elizabeth." They looked surprised. "Oh, Eliot has mentioned you several times. He thinks very highly of all of you, although as I say that it occurs to me you probably already are aware."

"Of course. Please, have a seat." Nate shifted over to make a spot available. "Are you alright? Were you injured in the attack?"

"Heavens no…nothing to speak of. A couple minor bruises. Still, I'd gladly have put up with more if it could have prevented this. Eliot was so impulsive. Leaping in like that without make sure of what was going on. Normally he is quite cautious about such things, isn't he? I do believe my being on the ground is what broke his normal concentration. Oh, you really needn't look so surprised, or concerned. I have a pretty good idea about what Eliot is capable of, and I have no intention of sharing that information with anyone 'official'. Wouldn't do to create any problems for him now would it?"

Hardison and Parker had joined them, all surprised as just how well this woman seemed to know their hitter.

"I'm sorry Sister – are you telling me Eliot has…that you know what Eliot is – does?"

"Oh my no – not everything by any stretch. But what he has told me, and in some ways what he hasn't, gives me a pretty good idea. I've spent some times in some rather interesting places myself over the years in my younger days, and I know that look that he gets sometimes. I can fill in the blanks. But he is so much more than that, not that I need to tell you."

"Oh please Sister, go ahead and tell us." Parker all but begged.

She smiled at the young woman's enthusiasm. "No, it's not my place."

"Can you tell us how do you know Eliot?"

"Well from his work at the shelter of course. We always have extra mouths to feed when word gets out he'll be in the kitchen. How he could take the meager fare we have and convert it was quite a mystery until I saw him unloading his trunk one evening. No wonder dinner is so much better since he took an interest in our little soup kitchen. There will be a lot of disappointed folk in a few days when Christmas dinner turns out to be less than anticipated – not that they won't be grateful for whatever blessings they are given," she quickly amended.

"So Eliot couldn't fix dinner for us because he was going to spend the day fixing and serving at the shelter." Hardison tried to shrink into his seat as he remembered the harsh words he'd directed at his friend when he found out Eliot wasn't going to be chef for them. He had promised to fix something in advance they could heat up, but wouldn't be fixing the meal on the day. They had all taken that as a personal slam, and Hardison had been particularly nasty in his response. "Guess we aren't good enough for you to waste your time and talent on. Well that's just fine man – we don't need your pity efforts. We'll take care of our own damn selves. You just find yourself some foxy lady and get cookin' there instead." Only thing he wanted to eat now were those words. He prayed he'd have the chance to ask directly for forgiveness on that one.

"Not just fixing. He always bought the dinner as well. Said you couldn't possibly make a proper meal without the right supplies. Oh my, he does not hold back when he gets cooking. Thanksgiving dinner – well folks are still talking about it. You are so blessed to have him to cook for you – and he does so love to do it. Says it's his way of giving back." They all squirmed a bit in their seats.

"Why the shelter – why your shelter? He's not Catholic."

"That little detail never seemed to be important to him. Should it?"

Nate jumped to his feet as he saw the nurse coming toward them, at once grateful for the diversion and anxious for the news. "Your friend is out of surgery and being moved to the intensive care unit. The doctor will be out in a few minutes to fill you in on the details."

"How is he?" "The doctor will be out in a couple of minutes" she repeated.

"He's an extremely tough young man Mr. Ford. I'm sure Eliot is going to be just fine."

"You have some inside information Sister?" He smiled slightly.

"No – just a high degree of faith. In Eliot – and other things." Nate was glad one of them did.

It was about 20 minutes before the doctor made the promised appearance, and tension had mounted to a fever pitch. The foursome descended on him like scavengers. Only the Sister stayed back, not intruding on a family moment.

"Eliot is hanging on, but his condition remains grave. I'm sorry – I wish I had better news. He did go into cardiac arrest twice on the table. While we were able to bring him back, there was a lot of damage done. Significant blood loss has left him very weak as well. At the moment he is on a respirator – he hasn't the strength to modulate his breathing properly. We are keeping him under very close watch. Once he gets settled you can go in for a couple of minutes, but not all at once."

"He's going to be ok though – right doc?" Hardison wanted to hear the words more than he wanted anything else in his life. He needed to the words that the doctor couldn't say.

"I promise you we are doing everything possible for him. Excuse me. I'll make sure the ICU staff is aware you will be coming." He quietly turned and left.

"They're letting us in to say goodbye." Parker whispered. "That's what he was saying isn't it? Eliot isn't going to wake up."

"Have you ever known Eliot to give up on anything?" The Sister was back, laying a hand gently on Parker's shoulder. The young woman shook her head. "Well why would you think he would choose now to change that?"

"Because he's mad at us. Because we don't deserve to have him fight to stay with us."

"Oh child, he could never be that mad at any of you. Don't you know you're his family?" She turned to leave them to their thoughts, but Nate stopped her.

"Sister, no one has told us exactly what happened. All we know is that he was hurt helping you."

"I was mugged. The hooligan had pulled a hand back to strike me when Eliot landed on him like the proverbial avenging angel. Took just the briefest of moments to – incapacitate him. Then he turned to me and quickly began making sure I was alright. It always amazes me how he goes from raging avenger to gentle caregiver so quickly. His attention was split between watching the man on the ground and caring for me. Neither of us saw the thug's partner until he attacked. In seconds Eliot was down and the thief and money were gone."

"Just how bad was it?"

"Eliot was stabbed in the back four times."

Nate was stunned by the parallel. Thinking back on the way they had treated him that morning Nate felt his knees weaken as he sank into the chair. "Yeah - twice in one day," he thought with shame.

Four days later, on the afternoon of the 24th, they still sat waiting. He was slowly getting stronger, or so the staff kept telling them. Eliot was off the ventilator, but still needed help breathing. He stirred occasionally, but had yet to regain consciousness. The first 48 hours had been an induced coma to help him heal, but now the drugs were out of his system and they waited for him to come back.

Sister Elizabeth was there. She'd been in everyday checking on Eliot, and the others. It was from her they'd learned on the second day after the episode that the mugger had been caught. Seems the rest of the people in the neighbourhood had been pleased to have Sister Elizabeth, and then Eliot, attacked. The number of tips to the police all but overwhelmed the phone lines. It didn't take long to identify and arrest the thug, and given that they'd found both the knife and the bag the funds had been in, along with some of the money, there was no doubt that a prison sentence was in his future.

Nate sat quietly talking with her after she'd told them that. "I'm curious Sister. Why did you send the police to us to identify Eliot? Clearly you could have told them exactly who he was."

"Ah yes, but the last thing he would need is for the police to know exactly who he is, isn't that right?" Nate sat quietly. "Really Mr. Ford. I understand your reluctance to discuss details, and I respect it. That is why I left it in your hands to ensure Eliot's information was properly disseminated. Just because what I know about him was not learned in a confessional, I have no intention of sharing it with those who have no need for the details."

"You, Sister, are a very interesting woman."

"Oh Mr. Ford – you have no idea!" she laughed.

And now, here she was again. She was smiling, as always, as she walked over to the bed and took Eliot's hand gently. "I should have known you'd have taken care of everything in advance. I've been getting calls all morning from families thanking us for the deliveries. You really outdid yourself young man. Not that I'm surprised. Goodness, you probably have this already set for next year too!"

Sophie's curiosity was peaked. "Excuse me Sister – he has what set up?"

"The family bundles. We have a program that lets neighbourhood families register with us if they need something for Christmas. Food, a few gifts. Something to make the season a little more 'Christmassy'. Then we use the funds we collect to try to meet as many needs as we can. It was always a bit touch and go in the past, but at least we usually got food on their tables."

"And I take it Eliot helps with those?"

"Helps? Oh goodness. Eliot sponsors the whole thing."

Sophie stared as Hardison filled the silence. "Eliot does the whole thing? You mean he makes the deliveries or…?"

"He supplies everything on the list, plus a lot more. Toys, food, clothes. Gave all the kids laptops last year. This year we had 127 families on the list. Not one of them got left out."

Parker sat quietly in the corner. "I called him Grinch. How could I call him Grinch? I said he didn't understand. What's wrong with me?" Hardison went to sit beside her.

"My God." Sophie didn't even try to hide her tears. "I thought he didn't know how to share."

"We all underestimated Eliot – again. We seem to be very good at doing that." Nate tried to focus the team. He turned to Sister Elizabeth. "Food arrived for tomorrow's dinner too, didn't it." She nodded, the smile reaching her eyes. "I'm guessing you're going to need some help in the kitchen then. None of us come close to Eliot's skill, but I think we can try to match the enthusiasm. One of us will have to stay here, but…"

"Nobody has to stay with me." The weak voice from the bed caused five heads to swivel as one, with smiles breaking out rapidly. Parker jumped over immediately and Hardison grabbed at her before she could reach out to hug him. She pouted, but held back. Sophie quickly wiped the tears and gave Eliot some ice chips, hearing the roughness in his voice. He gave her a grateful look as the cooling liquid hit his throat.

Sister Elizabeth smiled at him. "I'll leave you with your friends and go for the doctor. It's so wonderful to see you Eliot. We are going to have a little chat later about the foolishness of what you did, but that will keep." She squeezed his hand lightly as she left.

"Don't know what she was telling you – but she can't be trusted. She lies."

Nate arched an eyebrow at him. Eliot shrugged slightly, then grimaced at the effort.

"Stay still man – you got more stitches in you than Nana's quilt."

"Don't you guys have somewhere better to be? Decoratin' or something?"

"No Eliot, we're fine right here. This is where we should be."

"Sparky…" Parker's voice was so soft he could barely hear it.

"Don't – don't say it Parker. Please don't. You don't need to say anything – any of you – about this. About what happened yesterday at the office, about any of it."

"Four days ago." Sophie corrected. Eliot's eyes snapped to her. "Four days? Shit."

"Yeah – no kidding" Nate agreed. "And you may not need to hear it, but we need to say it. We were wrong Eliot. We were so damn wrong."

"I gave you reason to say what you did – think what you did."

"You've given us more reason to know better. You keep wanting us to think the worst of you, and we keep falling for it. That's gotta stop – from both sides."

"Nate…"

"No Eliot, not now. Now, you rest. You get better. We'll take care of the shelter tomorrow, and yes tomorrow is Christmas. If you'll let us, we'd like to keep that care thing going too. Oh, not with you. We know better than to assume you'll ever let any of us take care of you." He smiled a bit. "Although we might try from time to time, just to test things."

Eliot looked up at them, at the anxious faces, so desperately seeking forgiveness he didn't feel he needed to give. He'd brought this on himself – all of it. There was nothing to forgive, but he knew he'd never convince them of that. Still, he thought to himself, that was Christmas. Giving people what they desperately wanted. If need be, making the sacrifice so that they could have the gift they needed to make themselves complete. He could give them the forgiveness they thought they needed. For once in his life, Eliot had the perfect opportunity to give the perfect gift to the people he most wanted to please. He slowly allowed a small smile to appear. "Fine. But just until I'm on my feet. Couple of days – tops."

Yeah – money couldn't buy smiles like those ones, he thought, as he closed his eyes to rest. To all a good night.


End file.
